


Among the bubbles.

by andreaainsworth



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Peaceful, bathtime musings, loved up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-25 22:18:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andreaainsworth/pseuds/andreaainsworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>London's favourite pathologist treats herself to a little bit of bubbly in a bubble bath.</p><p>M for Nudity and Sexual situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm working on 'lessons in Cruelty' but I had this lovely idea in my head, and I do love Molly. She's a fighter and such a great character.

 

**Among the Bubbles**

  
"No Toby, mummy needs a little alone time in the tub," Molly pushed the little ball of black fur affectionately with her fluffy sock. The kitten mewled and began to playfully toy with the little balls of wool that if could pluck off with its young paws.

Molly almost caved, but the smell of vanilla and an underlying scent of orange drew her into the tiled bathroom of her flat, where there were candles, light music and a very, very warm bath. 

She took off one of her socks , the last Christmas present she'd received from her Dad, and threw it across the hall sending the little cat happily in its direction.

She closed the door and breathed in the sweet, musky scent of her overpriced bath lotion. It was a special brand that didn't annoy her sinuses too much and wouldn't cause a bad allergic reaction. It was however, strong enough to peel the stench of formaldehyde from her body.

Murmuring happily, she switched the song over to Melody Gardot 'Our Love is Easy' and dropped her robe. 

Molly was consistently pale, with five light brown freckles curling around her left shoulder blade. Those, she believed, were her favourite features. Pale skin, strange body marks, a true body enthusiast through and through.

The naked Molly Hooper stared back at her from the full length mirror. Yes, she felt a little bit awkward having it in here, but it didn't really go with the 'throw-together' theme in her room, and would look very silly in her kitchen/living room.

Plus, her bathroom was her temple. Clean tiles, soft colourings of beige and off whites. There were also random blue tiles situated all along the floor and walls. No shower curtain - it reminded her of hospital check ups and body blankets. As much as she loved her job, she needed to escape from it sometimes. This bathroom, bathing in itself, was her hobby.

And oh what a hobby it was.

She even had a blog! 'Pass the bubbles', is where she tried and tested several little bathbombs, ;iquids, gels, soaps, crystals - you name it, Miss Molly Hooper did it. She never rated harshly, even when a blue, overpowering bath bomb from Lush stained her pearly white bathtub for months and months and left a strange purple stain on her skin for days.

For today she was trying out a delicious combination suggested to her by a reader. Smell wise, it got a 10/10, temptation wise?

Eleven.

Molly stared at her body once more in the mirror. Slightly chubby around the middle - she had no time to exercise, to her it didn't matter. Every body was beautiful. Her breasts were small but curved upwards very nicely. She loved their bounce, and how the aereolas has a pinkish hue - _like a pair of cupid bow lips..._

_  
_Molly shook her head, _'No no no. That was work related, HE was work related. That was all. Work, Work Work (and a very humiliating period of forlorn lusting... and yes loving.)'_

_  
_Walking quickly to the tub, she threw her cotton robe onto the hanger, quite pleased when it stayed and sank into the dewy water.

Oh.

Oh it was beautiful.

Molly's body shivered and her nipples budded quickly. Her legs relaxed and her skin practically glowed in response. The scent wasn't thick - not even when you were surrounded by it. It was light, welcoming, and very stimulating.

She rubbed her thighs, and sighed. She'd sink washed before getting in, to exfoliate all the grime off her skin so she wouldn't be sitting in her own floating dirt.

Reaching behind her head, she brought the bottle up to her face from where it sat on the lotion stand. 'Smooth sailing' it was called. Natural ingredients that were combined - was that cream? Cream like substances maybe. Explains the silkiness. She sighed and was hit with another delicious wave of stimulus. She placed the bottle back and let her hair down. 

The song had now changed to a soft violin piece, a favourite of her and her fathers. To be fair, it was a fiddle piece. Irish - her mum had been 'Fitzpatrick' from Mayo. Usually she'd well up in memory, but surrounded by such a sweet comforting scent, she only glowed warmly, remembering soft shawls, knitted skirts, and tubes of lovely shades of red lipstick.

With the fiddle playing, her mind began to sharpen a little bit - the smell was familiar. She sat up a little bit and furrowed her brow. The sharpness of citrus. The soft thick smell of vanilla - pleasing and slightly gluttonous. Her body responded.  
  
A scent that scoured the chemical residue from the air in the morgue and left her breathless - oh.

Molly sank deeper into the tub, mouth open - half in annoyance, half in awe.

_This... this is what Sherlock smells like._

_  
_Her eyes focused on the candles at the bottom of the bath and she felt them go heavy. Warning signs of 'never fall asleep in the bath' flashed in her head... but she didn't mind. She wasn't short enough to slip under the waves of the water, and she could sit up quite easily on the bath slope at her back. Her eyes began to open less quickly.

Surrounded by him, she was surrounded by him, she clenched her thighs and smiled letting her cheek turn to the side and inwardly high-fiving herself for running a deep enough bath to blanket her breasts in their warm water.

* * * * * *

Sherlock was annoyed.

Molly hadn't bothered showing up for her shift. Yes she'd been granted a night off, for some ridiculous reason no doubt. She cut up bodies, made fantastic discoveries and helped him kill the boredom and catch the killers skulking about London. How could she be so selfish? How could she possibly need a night off from something so incredible?

He'd left John to smooth over the chaos his angry outburst had caused - he'd made a trainee cry, called him stupid. Well, called him a blithering moron who no doubt shined brightest at University but had since then exploded into thousands upon thousands of useless dust particles, getting in the way of things - more importantly his things.

Yes he was harsh, but that trainee was stupid. It was all Molly's fault really, he'd have to get her to apologise to John later.

He got out of the taxi and didn't wait for his change. Walking up to the little shop - a Mace, he seen the glowing amber of Molly's flat light on. _Still up then. Not using her 'day off' for beauty sleep._

_  
_Going down the alleyway, he climbed the stairs two at a time and came to her window - the bedroom. He looked down at the gloomy alley and quirked an eyebrow 'Not one for scenic vies then' he ignored the wet pools of water near the bins and easily opened the window. It was old, he slid a Credit card in the gap where the latch was and unlocked it, then used the same card to wedge underneath the wood and lifted it up until he could his fingers underneath.

He'd have to get that seen to. If he could work that out there was a small chance, about 1% that someone else could too.

Molly's room was... a mess. Not a mess like his and John's, but just not... fitting. It had pillows that didn't match, paintings that clashed with the wallpaper, and a bed that he was sure had been owned at least twice before.

No carpet - that was a blessing, but there was a handmade rug, slightly threadbare that was dotted with cat hair - shedding and length of the hairs indicate... a kitten? Ah yes. Toby.

A mewl shook Sherlock from his thoughts and he walked from the mismatched bedroom (glad to escape it) and stood observing a small black kitten pawing at what he presumed (by the steamy window) to be a bathroom.

Toby stopped, paw against the door and turned his face to Sherlock.

Sherlock had no way of communicating with cats, and although good with the complexities of human nature, he had no way of knowing what was going through the small kittens brain.

 

* * * * * *   
  
_Toby was small, but with all the ferocity that he would keep when he grew into an adult. His feeder, Molly, had escaped into the room of water trapper, massive marble slide, and the silver faucet where he liked to paw on and get his head a little wet. She'd gone in and hadn't let him in, distracting him with a fluffy (albeit amazingly fun) sock with many little bobbly bits._

_Now, he was alone, with a big man who smelt like street and a big thick coat that smelt a little bit like Molly did when she came home from 'work'._

_But he'd never seen this man before. Not with Molly. And he came in the way the bad stray cats come in._

_Ergo._

_This man is a stray! He'll steal Toby's food._

_Like. Fuck. He. Will._

_Toby squared up, hissing and making loud noises so that the man doubled back, surprised._

_That's right motherfucker. There's only enough food in her for one of us. And don't even think about stealing my ear-scratchies._

_The man raised an eyebrow, despite his earlier surprise he seemed totally cool and collected.  
_ "Hmh. Yes, nice kitty."

_Toby was to young to growl properly, and instead made light huffing noised, slowly vibrating towards this tall stray, hoping he looked more intimidating than he felt. As he made his way towards the stranger, he put his hands in his pocket and looked... annoyed? Yes it was annoyed. He'd seen this expression on Molly's face when he didn't get to the litter box in time. This stray was making him feel ridiculous._

_All of a sudden a large shoe swept above him and landed behind him. The stray was ignoring him! He was going into the water trapper room! HIS WATER TRAPPER ROOM.  
_

_All Toby could do was stare, gobsmacked, as the man flashed him a grin and walked in, quickly closing the door behind him before Toby, who had now flown himself towards the door, could get through.  
_

_He only hoped Molly would be as angry at him as she would be with Toby if he'd interrupted her 'alone time'.  
_

_* * * * * *  
_


	2. Chapter 2

 

Sherlock rarely thought of himself as an idiot, the teensiest bit incorrect sometimes - very rarely, but never an idiot.

Yet here he was, nose pressed against the frosted glass of Molly Hooper's bathroom door, staring victoriously at a kitten of all things. He had barged into the bathroom fully knowing that Molly Hooper was either in the process of bathing, finishing up her 'beuty regime', or worse (his stomach dropped to his feet and was dragged back up again in a strange fluttering sensation) she could be just getting ready to get in....

The thought of a naked Molly Hooper standing behind him in the mist, slightly bent so that the curves of her stomach rolled slightly into pleasant soft creases made his throat tighten and, after his millisecond of musings were complete, he turned around quickly; ready to launch into a heavily verbal defence of his innocence.

_'I never could back down from a power play - be it human or otherwise.'_

_  
_He was met with the sight of a creamy pale thigh, raised out of the water and resting on the edge of the bathtub. A bottle had fallen on to the ground and its contents spilled all over the floor - thick, it would be hard to remove from the white tiles, the steam would also mean that dirt deposits would settle into the liquid and harden.

All this swam about the detectives brain, but in large semi-transparent font, so as not to obscure the glorious sight he was met with.

Molly Hooper lay with her back against the white marble slope of her bath tub, her skin pinkified by the heat, leaving a water line just over her nipples. Her mouth was parted slightly and her eyes half open.

"Sherlock?"

Her tongue lingered for a bit, dragging on her mouth.

She was absolutely gorgeous.

His defence died in his throat and he watched Molly's eyes close slightly as her back arched exposing more of her beautiful breats - slightly larger on the right- and moaned.

Sherlock's name echoed in the bathroom and the detective's mouth dropped slightly as Molly's free hand made its way up to her breast. It was as if he wasn't even there. In her current state Molly had failed to register that Sherlock was standing right in front of her as she.... as she...

Molly Hooper was masturbating.

Molly Hooper was masturbating _about him._

Panic was quickly dissolved by the overwhelming urge to cover her breasts with his mouth, the carnal need to pull her from the bath tub and fuck her silly against the tiled floor. The water sloshed frantically as Molly's lazy limbs tried to bring her to her climax and Sherlock found himself closer to the tub, staring down at her now from his great height.

It'd be so easy to fall in, he thought.

He watched the young pahtologist as she nibbled away the skin at her lip, her breasts shaking slightly and her skin prickling with goosebumps where the air hit her.

This. This is private.

He steeled himself against the whimpers and sighs of frustrations and turned slowly, willing his eyes on the door handle across the room.

Molly's mouth parted and in a voice louder,  and thick with frustration all but yelled "Please Sherlock".

That did it.

Sherlock threw his coat to the floor and reached into the tub, startling Molly into the world of the startling aware. His mouth had  crashed down hard on her neck as he pulled her out, soaking his shirt and trousers in the process.

Molly made several choking noises, heart racing at being pulled from her reverie and practically breaking down her ribcage when she realised what exactly was happening.

"Sh-Sherlock!" her attempts to cover up were halted by Sherlock as he grabbed her by the wrists and balanced her on wobbly legs.

"Miss Hooper" He hissed into her neck, causing a delicate shiver to trail its way from her spine to her thighs,

"Exactly what are you doing to yourself" he held her away from him so as to take in her form "underneath the bubbles?"

The suddeness of the cold air caused Molly to fall forward, though she kept her eyes firmly locked on Sherlock's. Sherlock in turn shot a knee out to support her wavering legs so that she know straddled his trouser clad thigh.

Molly hissed as her bare sex rubbed against the smooth fabric. The noise met with the edges of Sherlock's lips and he smiled. "S-Sherlock, you, I'm trying to have a, have a bath Sherlock" her body had pressed itself now against that damn purple shirt, leaving water trails all the way down its front.

Sherlock brought her closer to his face, rocking his thigh slightly so it parted her labia and allowed her to grind better against his thight. "You" he whispered "Are a terrible liar, Molly"

Molly's hips had began moving on their own, she broke her arms out of Sherlock's grasp to grab the front of his shirt and pull herself closer to his face. "And you are, ah" glorious shiver shot up through her clit and Sherlock chuckled, allowing his hands to now grip at her backside to encourage her thrusts, "you, are a peeping tom, Mr Holmes."

A throaty laugh threatened to break out of the detective's chest, but he sustained it, let it simmer out as a chuckled as he began to slowly lick Molly's collarbone.

"Guilty Molly, so, very guilty." He accenuated each word with a slow kiss on her mouth. Molly parted her lips and let the detective slide his tongue in, letting it flick against her lip and make her buck into him. He couldn't hide his pleasure and laughed, slapping a hand firmly against her ass and chuckling at her sharp intake of breath.

"You're enjoying yourself, too much" she moaned as he began to knead her buttocks with his fingers.   
  
"That makes two of us, Molly." he whispered.

Before she could comment, he had flipped her around so she stood facing her full length mirror, fogged up from the steam. He thrust her forward so her hands braced on either side of the wall where it hung and whimpered at the absence of his thigh.

He quickly melded his body to hers, hi long fingered hand slid up her body and latched to her breasts, fingers nipping at her breasts slightly.   
  
"S-SHERLOCK" she hissed stopping as his left hand left her breast to begin unbuttoning his shirt. She watched transfixed, moaning as his second hand found her clit and began to slowly pet her wet pussy and clit.  
  
"Keep your eyes on me, Molly" he growled, moving his hand away until she met his eyes in the mirror. 

The shirt had fallen away onto the steam slicked floor. His body was a map of scars; burns, stab wounds and what she could tell was a bullet hole in his right shoulder. Her tongue darted out slightly and he smiled at her, quickening the speed of his forefinger against her clit.

"Yes, Sherlock, fuck like that please!"

The sound of his trousers hitting the floor sobered her thoughts, and Molly was surprised to see no boxers.

_Commando_

__  
"No box-"  
Sherlock had realligned his chest along her back and groaned slightly as the heat of her aroused cunt met with his own throbbing dick.  
  
"No, no boxers, although I prefer the brief variety when I bother to wear any at all"

His dick probed her slick entrance, the head, which she felt was thick with precum, rubbed against her swollen clit, as Sherlock began to circle his hips. Each movement was spot on, the slit of his cock giving just the right amount of friction so she was soon wet, her sex running down her thigh.

Sherlock gritted his teeth and yanked her head up to look him in the eye, the angle was painful on her back, but the throbbing and grinding of his cock below helped medicate the twinge in her spine. 

"Look at me, in the mirror Molly." with a hand still firmly grasping her hip, he directed her stare to the mirror once more so she could stare him in the eyes. The hand moved down from her hair, and parted her lips with two fingers. Molly opened her mouth without prompting and moaned around the soaked digits, much to Sherlock's delight.

"You're perfect, Molly Hooper" he leant in closer, the length of his cock now flat against her sex. "You're perfect, and I'm going to fuck you, do you understand Molly?"

Molly bucked backwards and moaned her clit throbbing.  
  
He retreated slightly, taking his fingers from her mouth and withdrawing his dick, "I need you to say yes, Molly, I need you to want this," he whispered, a softer edge to his voice.

Frustration coiled in Molly's stomach, she reached back for Sherlock's dick and guided it into her cunt. "For fuck sake Sherlock, PLEASE"

That did it.

Sherlock thrust hard, spreading Molly's legs apart with his own strong ones, and grabbed her by the waist to pull her back into each thrust. She met each thrust, breasts bouncing hard and the feeling of his dick throbbing inside of her setting her clit on fire. 

"Molly, fucking, Hooper" Sherlock groaned. Each thrust was fast and hard, he stopped every stroke or so to grind into her, rotating his hips and ensuring that his dick grinded against every part of her cunt's passage.

Molly was dizzy from the steam. Her pussy wet, her nipples hard, she felt her arms shake and her hands slip from the wall. She sighed with relief when Sherlock steadied her. He guided her until his full length filled her, then guided them back to sit on the bath's edge. She now sat, her back to his chest, his free hand squeezing and stroking her throbbing clit, the other alternating from one nipple to the other.

"Do you like it like this Molly?" He growled, grinding his cock and fingers in differents directions so that she felt the inevitable clench in her abdomen. "Fucking like a whore, fucking me in the bathtub where you touch yourself?"

Molly laughed at the perfection of it all, she bounced herself hard against him in agreement and felt triumph in her chest when he moaned low and hard.   
"Fucking hell, Molly fucking hell, move again, again". Her legs were too tired, and she found she couldn't comply fast enough, so sherlock placed both arms under her knees to spread her thighs further and thrust deeper and harder making her cry out.

"Sherlock please-"

"Please. What. Molly" he ground out.

"Please, please"

"Say it, Molly," he brought his mouth close to her ear, "I want to hear you say it,"

Molly's head rolled back and Sherlock took advantage of teh angle to lick and nibble on her neck, "Come for me Molly, tell me what you fucking want"

Molly's head swam, she could feel Sherlock buried deep inside her and brought her hand down to her throbbing clit. She groaned, "You Sherlock, please, please, I want you!"

She could feel his heart beating against his back, he let her thighs drop and instantly placed his hand over her cunt to rub furiously against her clit, thrusting the fingers of his free hand into her mouth as he thrust deeper and harder.

"Come Molly, Now!" he growled.

She came hard, shaking over him so he had to firmly grip the side of the bath tub and her hips to keep them both from falling head first into the tiles.

"Fuck, Sherlock, FUCK!"

Sherlock came shortly after, riding the termors of her cunt and groaning loudly into her hair. He spread her thighs wide against his own as he came and relaxed into her back, feeling himself drip out of her, down her thights in small white droplets.

* * *

 

Their shouts echoed through the bathroom as they reached their climax, and then the silent dripping of the bathroom met their ears.

Molly's thighs shook and Sherlock felt his chest would burst as he lowered them both safely onto the tiles. He rolled away from her back, and lay beside her, a tired and shaky smile stretched across his face.

"Molly," he sighed, rubbing her back slightly. A happy sigh escaped her and she moved, slowly, to stare up at him.

"You, you scared the hell out of me" she whispered, voice throaty with sex and a tiredness seeping out of her limbs.

He chuckled and pulled her into his chest, his limpness resting at her abdomen and his lips buried in her hair.

"Well, you surprised the hell out of me."

"You always said surprises excited you" she teased, earning a slap on her bum from the chuckling detective.

He sighed happily and stretched, slowly making his way to his feet, happy with the euphoria spreading from his dick, up his spine, into his chest. He was well and truly 'shagged out' as John would put it.

"You're the only one who has ever been able of... surprising me, Molly." he reached a hand down and helped her up, holding her steady in his arms.

"even after two years? I was beginning to think you'd got bored"   
  
Sherlock  answered her with a firm kiss, his hand tangled softly in her hair.

She smiled, stepping up onto her tiptoes before withdrawing. "Hot water," she mewled.  
  
"Hmm?"

"Go put the boiler on again, we need more hot water, you ruined my bath".

"Not on your life," he answered, "There's a viscious feline outside, one I'm not keen on meeting again any time soon"

 

 


End file.
